Of A Physician and His Companions
by Arisprite
Summary: Or tales of the Doctor. Little bits of randomness, involving the Doctor's many travels, trials, loves and heartbreaks. Will include Doctors Nine and Ten, and any companions that show up. No slash, but angst, humour, domesticity and adventure await! RatedT
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: First of all, I want to apologize for leaving The Counterfeit alone for so long. I blame David Tennant :P I've been thoroughly sucked into the Doctor Who universe, and for the past month or two, I've not read/written anything besides that. I do promise that I'll get back to Holmes…eventually. It WILL happen!**

**This will be a series of short tid bits that come to me randomly, and beg to be put down. There is no set order or formula, just whatever comes out. Enjoy!**

**This first one is Nine, and Rose at the beginning of their travels :)**

"Now, what is wrong with you?" The Doctor murmured as he stuck his head further into the dim cavity under the console. The Tardis was groaning at him, and he gave it a concerned pat. Coming upright, he pulled at wires, and flipped switches, before looking at the readout screen. "Oh, it that all?"

He fiddled with a few other things, before leaning back and putting his hands on his hips. "Well that's that, I suppose. A few hours of rest and you'll be right as rain!"

He wiped his hands on his dark green jumper, and strode around the console hub, towards the interior of the ship. His new passenger, a blonde human called Rose, would probably be glad of the break. They had barely dematerialized from the 1800's, and dealing with Gelf, when the Tardis had started feeling shaky. Now she needed a few hours of calibration, and then they could be off again. He grinned. He knew just the place to take her too; a planet where the entire population lived in trees, living their wholes lives, never putting one foot on the ground. Add to that, the fact that the indigenous species bore an uncanny resemblance to earth's idea of fairy folk, Rose was sure to be enchanted.

The Doctor started off towards Rose's room, coming to the door, and knocking lightly.

"Com'in," Rose's voice floated through the door, and he opened it slowly.

She was curled on a big squishy armchair, with a magazine open in front of her. She smiled up at him, her hair still wet from her shower.

"D'you know that this magazine is from 2012? That's seven years into my future!" She was still getting used to the whole time travel thing, apparently. He gave her a mock glare.

"You know you shouldn't read that. Spoilers!" He folded his arms. "That's like reading the last page first in a mystery novel." He said dramatically, like it was the worst sin in the world. She stuck her tongue out at him, then smiled.

"I love doing that," She teased. He scowled good-naturedly.

"You would." She laughed, and laid aside her magazine. He smiled. "I just wanted to let you know that we're a bit stuck for a while. The Tardis has a few bugs she needs to work out; it'll take a few hours." She furrowed her brow. "Nothing to worry about."

"Will she be okay?" She asked, standing up, and he was suddenly touched by her concern. This little human ape, so far from home, cared about a piece of sentient alien technology. One she could never hope to understand, but yet she accepted it into her life and heart so easily. He grinned at her.

"She'll be fine." She smiled in relief, and met his eyes. They grinned at each other for a moment. He then cleared his throat. "Anyway, just wanted to let you know." He rocked back on his heels. "I'll be in the console room." He turned away, but not without seeing the flash of disappointment.

"Alright," Rose said, picking up her magazine, and curling up again. He left her there, and headed back to the control room.

**A/N: *grin* Hope you liked :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is John Smith's point of view as he opens the watch in Human Nature/Family of Blood. I wished there had been a scene showing it, but there wasn't. So I had to fill it in myself :)**

John Smith stared down at the fob watch that sat so innocently in his hands. It was a simple watch, with a plain metal cover, inscribed with strange, yet familiar symbols. It certainly didn't look like it could be the instrument of his death. Yet it would be. For he would open it, and cease to exist. Martha had told him that he would still be there, but he knew, this other man, the Doctor was the only person she wanted to see standing in John Smith's shoes. This romantic hero, this lonely alien, this stranger who wore his face would walk out of this room, not him. He met Joan's eyes, his face twisted in that anguish that comes from having to make the worst of all decisions.

Her eyes met John's calmly. She smiled at him encouragingly, but he could see the sorrow behind her eyes. His throat worked.

"I... I'm sor-" He couldn't finish.

"It's alright." She whispered, and his heart broke for her, separate from his own pain. Her love would die tonight, and she was telling him to do it! His spirit warmed to behold her courage.

He looked down again at the watch he clutched, his death. He took a deep breath, set his jaw and opened it.

His vision exploded in a whirl of gold, noise, and emotions. The memories flashed before his eyes and John Smith was not conscious of them being new. They were right, they belonged to him.

And yet, it _hurt_. The lives he had lived had had their joyful times, yes, but the overarching feeling was pain, loneliness, just as Marthahad said. He saw battles won and lost, the ultimate war that could not be won, and only barely survived, the one that cost him his entire race. Faces flashed before his eyes, faces he had loved, left behind, or lost. One face stood out, and his hearts broke anew as he pictured a blonde human girl who was so very special...

His thoughts swirled, and shifted, then suddenly faded. He was himself.

The Doctor became aware that he was kneeling on the floor of the house, his cheeks wet with tears, and Joan's arms steadying him. He heaved a shuddering breath, and pulled away from her, scrubbing at his face as an excuse to avoid her eyes. He could remember everything that had happened while he was John Smith, and the memories cut him to the core.

He could remember the nervousness he felt during their gentle courting. There was a tentative kiss. Laughter. Dancing. His recalled his terror and surge of protectiveness when the Family had entered the dance hall, and threatened Joan. Then came the realization that he would have to die and the heart wrenching glimpse of a future that could have been. He had sobbed into her shoulder, terrified at what he was being told to do, but then raising his head and doing it anyway, despite the fear. In choosing to die, the human John Smith was braver than the mighty Doctor ever could be.

The Doctor took another breath, and then looked up into the concerned eyes of Joan Redfern.

"Are you him now, then?" She asked calmly. So very brave, she was, but within the Doctor, the man who had loved this woman could see the cracks in her facade. He nodded.

"I'm back." He said, and stood. He was still clutching the watch, and he now looked down on it. He could now understand the writing, he noticed mildly. She nodded, and turned from him.

"You'd better go and stop them." She said, for they could still hear the bombardment of the village in the distance.

"Yeah." She didn't look at him as he crossed the room, and wrenched open the door. He had a world to save, and a Family to punish.

**A/N: Hope that was okay, thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This was rather fun to write. I quite frankly love Donna and the Doctor's interactions, so it was great to come up with their dialogue. Also, sorry I've been so absent lately in the Sherlock Holmes fandom, but having thoroughly enjoyed BBC's Sherlock, I'm feeling the urges to pick up old things like the Counterfeit again, so be on the look out for that. Cheers!**

Donna watched the Doctor as he danced around the TARDIS console, flipping switches and levers. The golden light started pulsing as the TARDIS took them away from England 1920, and the world of Agatha Christie.

"So, another job well done, I'd say." Donna remarked, smiling, and the Doctor grinned back at her.

"Yup," He said, popping the 'p'. "Memory wiped. Timeline back in place. She'll be fine. More than fine! Marvelous!"

He reached across the control panel, and smashed a large button with the heel of his hand, while Donna began to unwind the decorative strands that twisted around her up-do.

"So I was thinking we should go someplace with a mall. I've been to all these different places, and I haven't had a chance to buy anything! You know; a dress from another planet, jewelry from Mars, a shawl from ancient Greece. I've been dying to see a real alien market place. The one in Pompey didn't count, by the way. Besides, we really didn't get a chance to see anything…there."

She pulled out the last pin, paused. The Doctor never let her ramble on that long without interrupting. She turned towards him, and frowned in concern. He was leaning on the consol with both hands, his head bowed, and shoulders slumped in a way that suggested exhaustion.

"Doctor?" She said, coming closer. He didn't move. Growing more concerned, she laid her hand on his shoulder.

He jerked around, and his eyes met hers for a moment before going unfocused. He swayed, and she leapt forwards to catch him.

"Doctor!" She got his arm over her shoulders, and led him to the jump seat, where he immediately leaned forwards, elbows on knees, and rubbed his face. He was pale, and when she felt his forehead, clammy. "What's wrong?"

He breathed out heavily, then cracked open one eye at her.

"Donna, I was poisoned today, and then I was in a life or death car chase with a giant wasp flying over our heads. I think I'm allowed to be a little wobbly." He smiled at her from where he was still bent over, his hands now under his chin. "Really, I'm fine, just tired. Detox is rough on the system."

Donna, mostly appeased with that explanation, leaned back against the seat next to him.

"I still can't believe you survived." Donna looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I mean really. Cyanide? Are there any other crazy Timelord tricks I should know about?"

The Doctor laughed, and sat up a bit straighter. "I can't give up all my mysteries, can I?"

Donna elbowed him, and they both grinned. Donna then stood up.

"Come on, Spaceman. Breakfast on me, then bed."

The Doctor allowed her to pull him along, as she led him into the interior of the TARDIS. The kitchen was surprisingly easy to find, and the ingredients for a batch of pancakes with bananas on top were in plain sight. Donna smiled, and ran her hand along the counter. The old ship wanted to take care of the Doctor too.

The Doctor took a seat at the table, just a bit shakily. Donna got out a glass of fruit juice, and set it in front of the Doctor before whirling off into baking. It was her chosen element; she felt so at peace whipping up a batch of cookies. She smirked as she realized that her various past boyfriends and the Doctor had something in common, in that they had not minded in the least.

The Doctor hadn't said much since coming into the kitchen, and Donna figured he was still feeling unwell. He usually talked a mile a minute while she cooked, interspersed with swiping licks of batter, or popping chocolate chips in his mouth. He was just sitting there now, and it was odd to see him so still.

She started chattering lightly, and he smiled tiredly at her, leaning his head on his hand, while he sipped his juice.

A while later, having exhausted the subjects of her childhood mishaps, favorite shopping places, and adventure stories Wilf had told her, she slid a plate stacked with golden brown pancakes, and sliced bananas in front of him. He raised his head, and grinned.

"Donna Noble, you are a star!" he said emphatically, and began to dig in. He ate energetically for a few minutes, while Donna munched hers, sans bananas, more sedately. Then his hands slowed, and he literally drooped where he sat. His chin came to rest on his hands, and his eyelids sank to half-mast. Donna smiled fondly, and set her fork down. It was times like these where the 900-year-old Timelord, who has seen all of time and space, really just reminded her of a little boy in need of a hug.

"Come on you big lump." She said fondly, rising from her place. "You're dead on your feet, and I wouldn't mind a kip myself. A solid eight hours is just what you need." He blinked up at her.

"Eight hours?" He exclaimed. "You humans, wasting your life away flat on your back."

"You sleep too, you idiot." Donna said exasperatedly, pulling him up by the elbows, since he had not attempted to get up by himself. "I've seen you." He humphed.

"Catnaps."

"Well you need more than a catnap today." She grabbed his arm as he swayed, but then he pulled away.

"I can do it myself, Donna." He protested, and she was again reminded of a small child. Hiding a smile, she followed him out of the kitchen, and to the hallway. Her grin widened as he stopped in front of a door directly across from the kitchen door. He scowled, and opened it, and seeing the mussed bed inside, she realized it was his bedroom.

"Looks like the TARDIS agrees with me, hmm?" She leaned on the doorframe, and examined her nails. He threw a dirty look in her direction as he wandered the room, looking for his pajamas, she assumed. She saw a pile of pinstriped cotton poking out from under the wardrobe, and she lazily pointed. "Wouldn't be looking for those, would you?" She asked, smiling.

He scooped up the pajamas, and glowered at her.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" He asked.

"Nope, just long enough to make sure you get your skinny behind into bed, and not sneaking off into the consol room." Donna said. "I don't want any drowsy driving."

He seemed to oscillate between being annoyed and amused, then his shoulders slumped. He sighed.

"I suppose there's nothing I can do to make you go away?"

"Nope," She said, popping the 'p' the way he always did.

He shrugged in an accepting sort of way, and headed into the adjoining bathroom, pajamas bunched up in his arms.

She waited patiently, still leaning on the door, as the minutes stretched out. Donna was sure that he was stalling on purpose in the hopes that she'd get bored, and leave. _Well, not gonna happen, Spaceman._ She was enjoying this.

The Doctor finally came out after another five minutes, looking adorably young in his pinstriped pajamas (_they would be pinstriped, wouldn't they?)_ and ruffled hair. He rolled his eyes when he saw that she was still there.

"I can—" He yawned. "—put myself to bed, you know. And to tell you the truth, it's a little creepy getting ready for bed with you standing there."

"Oi, don't go getting any funny ideas, Sunshine! I just want to make sure I'm safe tomorrow, flying with a well rested pilot."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't have much choice, do I?"

"Not really, no." She said, unapologetically. "D'you want me to tuck you in?"

"Hah, 900 years? I think I can manage." He scooted himself under his covers, and pulled them up to his chin.

"Suit yourself." And she turned to go down the hall, and finally to her own bed.

"Donna?" She turned back at the Doctor's call. "Thank you." He smiled at her from his bed, the lights in his room already dimming as the TARDIS decided that he'd been awake long enough. There was just enough light for the Doctor to see her answering smile.

"Good night, Doctor."

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed that, I know I did. Thanks for reading!**

**Ari**


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